Volume III, No. 1, Fall 1975


There it sits upon the wooded hill,
Surviving here because of God's own will.
It has seen man's death and life,
Heard his joys and felt his strife.

Held in time are memories of this place.
This church has seen a century of man's race.
Rich in memories this place has been
With more as time goes on again.

Behind the church are groves of mighty oak,
Spreading wide their arms to shield the folk
Who lie in time's eternal rest
In peaceful graves with God's own blest.

But if this little church could tell its past
--For memories of its people do not last--
Its history's richness all would see
To fathom how this church could be.

Keep your cities where cathedrals are.
The country church is richer still by far.
It has been close to man in the past,
And this alliance will always last.

by Paul Ludwig


Copyright © 1981 BITTERSWEET, INC.

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